


me neither

by zhuzhubi



Category: Criminal Minds (US TV)
Genre: Awkward First Times, F/M, First Time, Fluff, Fluff and Smut, Idiots in Love, Loss of Virginity, Love Confessions, Sex, Smut, background case in the first chapter, but just case stuff, so implied/referenced violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-03
Updated: 2020-08-03
Packaged: 2021-03-05 23:07:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,097
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25683283
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zhuzhubi/pseuds/zhuzhubi
Summary: “What the hell does this bastard think he’s accomplishing, ‘sacrificing’ these girls? It doesn’t even mean anything to be a ‘virgin’ since defining sex is so different for everyone, and anyway why the fuck do people care so much about sex and other people’s sex lives!? Like, it’s none of your damn business, Karen. No one asked you. It doesn’t fucking matter than I’m 30 years old and I’ve never  - “You freeze, realizing the obvious implications of what you’ve just said, painfully aware of how Reid is standing just a few feet away and can definitely hear you....(or, an unsub is targeting adult virgins, and reader is angry/upset because she’s one too. she tries to hide it from the team, but eventually tells reid, at which point she learns he’s a virgin too + awkward first time in the second chapter)
Relationships: Spencer Reid/Original Female Character(s), Spencer Reid/Reader
Comments: 3
Kudos: 184





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> also on tumblr @zhuzhubii

Sex. Also known as: intercourse, copulation, trying for a baby, lovemaking, getting busy, fucking, ect. 

You know, that thing you _know_ your parents did, no matter how much you try not to think about it. That thing everyone and their mother thinks is the _best thing ever_ , sings praises to the gods about and, most frustratingly, thinks everyone’s experienced by the time they’re like 25.

The thing about sex is that you really, really want it. You’re so sexually frustrated (especially since starting at the BAU and meeting Dr. Spencer Reid _holy shit_ ) it hurts, like actually physically hurts. And you’re tired of it, tired of how your vibrator just isn’t doing it anymore. 

But you’re really not sure how to rectify this situation, because you’re 30 years old, and you’ve never _done it_ before and the whole _reason_ you’ve never done it before in the first place is because you have no idea how to approach the issue. 

You’re nervous about finding the right person. And then, once you think you’ve found someone suitable you talk yourself out of pursuing anything because you’re nervous about the sex itself (and you’re worried your partner will judge you for being completely inexperienced). You can’t even talk to any of your friends about it because:

1) All of your friends are also your coworkers and you’re not sure if you want to cross that line

2) It feels like all of them either have kids, or constantly make allusions towards their sexual machinations

So you’re super frustrated about your lack of a sex life, and there’s nothing you can do about it. Fantastic.

…

You’ve just gotten a new case - four women in their mid-twenties to early-thirties murdered over the past six months - and are about an hour away from the plane landing when Garcia’s face appears on the computer screens.

“Um, guys?” her voice crackles over the speakers.

“You got something, baby girl?” Morgan replies, looking up from the crime scene photos he’s been rifling through.

“So, these women are all super different, right? Different jobs, interests, races. At first glance, I couldn’t find anything in common between them.”

“But?” prompts Morgan.

“Well, here’s the thing,” she continues, “they’re all subscribed to dating services, but all use different sites and/or apps, so I thought it was a no-go at first. _But,_ your resident super sleuth-er dug a little deeper - all of them at some point mention being ‘a virgin.’ Two of them mentioned it in their profiles, but the other two were asked by a ‘Johnathan Charleston’ and responded with the affirmative.”

 _Oh great_ , you think to yourself, _Of course it’s some guy hyper-focused on virgins. Of course it is._

“Looks like he might be our guy. You got anything on him, Garcia?” Emily jumps in.

“Well, I looked into him, of course, but the only person with that name living in the area is a 90 year old man who recently moved into a nursing home - no way he’s our unsub. And the photos he used are from our good friend Google - he was totally cat-fishing them.”

Reid has his thinking face on (you take a moment to appreciate how cute it is, before refocusing yourself on the case), and you can tell he has something to say, “While there’s some debate as to what the term ‘virgin’ actually means, men who place value in virginity typically take ‘losing one’s virginity’ to mean having ‘penis-in-vagnia’ sexual intercourse for the first time. It’s most likely our unsub is using that definition and is looking for women who’ve never been penetrated vaginally by a penis. His motive could be anything from power play, to finding surrogates for a particular woman who considers herself a ‘virgin,’ to a sacrifice for some kind of ritual.”

“And narrowing it down is the key to finding this guy,” Hotch concludes, “Reid, start on the geoprofile - go over the dump sites and check for significance to any type of ritual, no matter how obscure. JJ, the families should be at the station by the time we get there - I want you to handle the interviews. Rossi and (y/n), see what the ME can tell us about cause of death. I’ll get us set up with the local PD - that leaves Prentiss and Morgan to head to the latest crime scene.”

…

Seeing the bodies is just as disconcerting as it always is, if a little more so due to how similar they are to yourself. You’re usually mostly fine with seeing dead bodies - you have to be in this profession - but your skin crawls and a pit forms in your stomach when you walk into the morgue this time.

The ME leads you and Rossi over to the most recent victim, “COD is exsanguination. Ligature marks to the wrists and ankles, but no signs of sexual assault. The tox panel was clear as well.”

“And it’s the same for all four victims?’’ Rossi clarifies. 

She nods, “For the most part. The first victim, Mary Suthers, also had bruising indicative of physical assault - I’d say she either fought back more, or whoever did this had less practice than he did with the other victims, and couldn’t restrain her as efficiently.”

“But no signs of sexual assault or drugs in any of them?” you prompt. 

She nods again, handing you two copies of her report, “Victim three, Loretta Williams, had nicotine in her system, but there’s signs she was a smoker. Other than than, nothing.”

“I’m leaning toward this being some kind of a sacrifice, then. He wants them to be ‘pure’ when he kills them,” Rossi deduces

It sends a rush of anger through you, though you manage to contain it (for the most part). 

You can’t stop yourself from bitterly spitting out, “We need to catch this sonofabitch.”

…

When you get back to the precinct, Reid is staring pensively at the map he’s pinned up. Rossi went to update Hotch, while you came into the conference room to update the case boards.

You slam the ME’s report down on the table and he jumps, spinning around to face the source of the noise. When he sees you, he relaxes a little, “(y/n), you scared me!”

You continue as if he hadn’t spoken, pulling out the report and furiously pinning it up, “What the hell does this bastard think he’s accomplishing, ‘sacrificing’ these girls? It doesn’t even mean anything to be a ‘virgin’ since defining sex is so different for everyone, and anyway why the fuck do people care so much about sex and other people’s sex lives!? Like, it’s none of your damn business, _Karen_. No one asked you. It doesn’t fucking matter than I’m 30 years old and I’ve never - “

You freeze, realizing the obvious implications of what you’ve just said, painfully aware of how Reid is standing just a few feet away and can _definitely_ hear you.

“(y/n) - “ he starts, but you cut him off, refusing to meet his gaze. This is quite possibly the most embarrassing moment of your life - you’ve just admitted your lack of sexual experience to your extremely attractive coworker who you may or may not have a huge crush on. There’s no way he’s not internally laughing at you, nevermind that you’re almost positive he’s not that type of guy - _I mean, just look at him! No way is he a virgin!_

“Um, I’ve gotta go,” you say, rushing out of the room. It’s painfully obvious that you don’t have anywhere else to be - the interior wall of the conference room is practically made out of windows, he can see you standing awkwardly just outside the room, unsure of where to go now. But you push that out of your mind and start walking with determination - _fake it until you make it!_ \- to the left. You realize the interview rooms are in this direction, so you can just pretend like you thought JJ could use some help with interviewing the families. 

_Yes, that’s a great plan_ , you think, _Spencer_ definitely _doesn’t have an eidetic memory and will_ definitely _forget he heard me say anything by the end of this case. I just need to hold out until then._

…

You’re uncharacteristically snappy for the rest of the case - you pretend not to notice the rest of the team exchanging concerned glances behind your back - but aren’t unreasonably rude to any of the locals and are still exemplary at your work. You’re going to get an earful about your behavior from Hotch once the case is over, you’re sure, but he’s letting it slide for now.

You’ve also been managing to avoid Reid almost completely - you never let yourself end up alone with him, and you know he won’t bring anything up around the rest of the team. He manages to corner you when you’re getting coffee on the third day of the case, getting out, “(y/n), I - “ before you lift a hand in a gesture that clearly means _stop talking_.

You just want this case to be over with so you can go home and cry over your lack of a sex life while consuming a bowl (okay, an entire pint) of ice cream, “Spencer, I really don’t want to talk about this. You didn’t hear anything, I didn’t say anything. There’s nothing to discuss, and even if there was it’s really none of your business. Leave it alone.”

There’s just enough time to take in his kicked-puppy look (and to feel a little bad about it - maybe that was _just a little bit_ unnecessarily mean) before Morgan pokes his head out of the conference room and calls both of you over, “guys, we’ve got something!”

From there, it’s Kevlar on and tense preparations for the take-down. When you reach the unsub’s hideout, he’s in the middle of exsanguinating another girl. You manage to make the arrest without anyone getting hurt, but the woman is losing a lot of blood and it’s pretty chaotic until the paramedics arrive and rush her off to the hospital. Then, you all have to deal with getting a full confession (the unsub had managed to convince himself that ‘sacrificing’ virgins would bring him good fortune in life - there’s some dramatic irony there, but you really don’t want to think about this case any more than you have to) and wrapping up the case before heading back to DC. There’s no time to sit and breathe because although it’s pretty late already, if you guys rush to the airstrip you can leave tonight instead of tomorrow morning, and no one’s itching to stay here any longer.

You make it onto the plane in one piece, and are just settling down for a nap when Reid slides up next to you. You suck in a breath and prepare to snap at him, but he gets there first.

“Meneither,” he says so quickly you’re not sure you heard him correctly.

“Huh?” you say intelligently.

He looks nervously around, making sure no one else is close enough to overhear (and drops his voice anyway, just for good measure), “I haven’t…,” he makes a pointed gesture with his eyebrows, “either.”

You’re so shocked that you’re certain he must be talking about something else. “Wait, we’re talking about,” now it’s your turn to double-check you won’t be overheard, “…sex, right?”

He squeaks out a little, “Mmhm,” his voice jumping up at least an octave (awe, how adorable!).

No. Way. You were so _sure_ you were the only one. But now that you think about it, you’ve never actually heard him say anything about sex - he just kind of awkwardly nods along when Morgan or Prentiss or Garcia (or, occasionally, JJ) says anything about it.

Your silence must be making him anxious, because he starts sputtering out, “I - I just didn’t want you to be, like - embarrassed, you know? I don’t think it’s weird or anything, I mean that would be kinda hypocritical of me? Anyway you seemed upset about it, and I thought if I told you it’s not just you who still hasn’t, um - _you know_ \- it might make you feel better? We can just forget about this, if this is weird. I’ll just go - “

On impulse, you reach out and stop him from standing back up. You really didn’t have a plan past that though, so now you’re awkwardly sitting next to him with your hand on his arm, making uncomfortable eye contact. 

The awkward silence starts getting to you, so you blurt out the first thing that comes to mind. 

“Ilikeyou.”

_Oh god. Why did that have to be what came out of your mouth? This is terrible, just awful, you made this whole situation so much worse -_

“Really?” his voice is soft, as if he can’t believe you just said that - but also…kinda hopeful? Maybe? 

“Um,” you say, “…yes?”

His face fills with an adorable blush, and he stutters out, “My favorite theater’s doing a special showing of Star Wars episode 3 this weekend, with cosplay and everything. Um. Maybe…do you want to come? With me, I mean?”

It’s your turn to blush (let’s be real, though, you were already blushing), “Like…on a date?”

He starts waving his hands around trying to backtrack, “N - not if you don’t want it to be one! I mean I was kinda hoping it would be a date? But I totally understand if you don’t want to go on a date with me. You probably just mean you like me as a friend, and I’m completely misinterpreting all of this - “

“No!” you interrupt him, “a date sounds great! I even bought a model lightsaber on impulse a few months ago, so that’s actually kinda perfect…yeah, it sounds great.”

All the tension melts out of his body and he sighs out, “Great. That’s…yeah that’s fantastic.”

You two have a moment to enjoy the moment before you hear _someone_ fail to hold in a chuckle and your head snaps to the side. It’s Morgan, looking rather like a deer in the headlights with his eyes wide and hands slapped over his mouth. He looks frantically between you and Spencer, unwilling to admit to listening in despite how obvious it is that he was. 

Spencer pulls himself together first, hissing out, “Morgan! How much did you hear!?”

He just annoyingly chuckles to himself and wiggles his eyebrows. “Sounds like _someone_ is finally gonna get some,” he says with a smirk.

You and Spencer take a moment to look at each other in horror before ganging up on Morgan to make sure he knows exactly what’ll happen if he lets this slip to anyone else. At least you have someone to share your mortification with. 


	2. Chapter 2

You’ve been dating Spencer Reid - like, officially and everything - for about a month and a half, and it’s fantastic. So fantastic, in fact, that you’ve almost completely forgotten about being sexually frustrated - he takes you on nerdy dates (in addition to the Star Wars cosplay, you’ve now visited the Smithsonian and the observatory, and gone to a Star Trek orchestral concert). When cases don’t get in the way, he brings you coffee almost every morning. (And he kisses you when no one else is around - which awakens the frustration just a little bit, if you’re being entirely honest). 

It comes right back to the forefront of your mind when:

You’re hanging out in his apartment - there’d been plans to walk around the city, but then it started raining (and, hey, his apartment is pretty great, too. No harm, no foul) - when your stomach growls and, after giggling about it for a few minutes like the mature adults you are, the two of you decide to try and cook something. You kiss him while waiting for the pasta water to boil, and it turns into a full on make-out session - the water’s already simmering, but somehow that doesn’t seem important anymore.

This isn’t anything new. What is new - and kind of strange - is the way in which he obviously wants to keep kissing you, but also keeps pushing backwards against the hands you’ve wrapped around his waist. You think _maybe he’s not doing it on purpose?_ , so you try to pull him closer. But there it is - he doesn’t let you, even shifts his feet into a more stable position so that he can hold his ground. 

You’re a little worried, so you resolve to just ask him. You pull back a little bit, “What’s wrong?”

He seems genuinely confused, “Huh? Nothing’s wrong?”

“Then why are you standing like that? You’re, like, sticking your butt out,” you gesture toward said butt. 

He pulls his cardigan down a little, blushes, and continues standing weirdly. “I always stand like this,” he says, and as soon as it comes out of his mouth you can tell that he regrets it. It’s so _obviously_ not true that you don’t even entertain it for a second. 

“No, you don’t,” you deadpan.

“No, I don’t,” he parrots nervously, “Um…I…”

You realize you’re really gonna have to pull this answer out of him, “Spencer, whatever it is, it really can’t be that bad.”

He makes his ‘frog’ face and opens and closes his mouth a few times before responding, “It’s just that…we haven’t really…talked about,” and he makes the same pointed gesture with his eyebrows he did on the plane about two months earlier.

You squint at him, not sure why he’s bringing it up. And then you _realize_ , and your eyes snap straight down to his crotch. Oh. _OH_.

He starts squirming under your scrutiny, tugging at his cardigan a little more even though it’s clearly not long enough, nervously blubbering, “(y/n)! Um - hey, this is really embarrassing. And it doesn’t usually happen! Anyway look, it’s starting to go away - wait, no! Actually, don’t look! Stop looking!”

You kiss him - just quickly - to snap him out of it. It’s another split-second decision you make without a plan as to what to do next, so now you’re awkwardly staring at each other again. You decide he’s flustered enough already - you need to be the one to take charge here.

“Do you wanna have sex?” is what you end up saying.

_Wait, what? No! That’s not what I meant to say at all! -_

“Yes,” he replies without thinking, then realizes what he said and proceeds to overthink it (his brow is furrowed like it always is when he’s thinking - usually you think it’s cute, but in this situation _thinking_ is probably doing more harm than good).

Neither of you really knows how to continue - both of you just admitted to being interested in sex with the other, but also…neither of you have any experience whatsoever with this sort of thing? Just then, the pasta water starts boiling over, prompting the both of you to scramble back over to the stove and turn it down.

Crisis averted, Spencer suggests, “Dinner first?” to which you can only nod.

…

Later - when you’re sitting on the couch together, dirty dishes on the coffee table - you break the silence, “So…how do we do this?”

He purses his lips, “Well…um…ok, neither of us have any experience with this, right?”

You just give him a look.

“Right,” he nods shortly, “Well…what do they usually do in porn?”

 _Really?_ you think. Exasperation is clear on your face when you sarcastically reply, “Do you _really_ think porn is a good example to learn from?”

He waves his hands around as he tries to explain himself, “Not the super over-the-top produced stuff! People post their, like, home videos. That’s what I meant,” he mumbles something at the end that you can’t quite make out. 

“What was that?” you’re curious.

His cheeks flush a deep red. “Um,” he looks like he’s about to deny having said anything, but then takes a deep breath and repeats it anyway, “I…like that kind better, anyway. Not that I spend a ton of time watching porn! Because I _don’t_! It’s just that, when I _do_ , I prefer the amateur - “

“Spencer, it’s fine,” you placate, then shyly admit, “It…it’s not just _you_ who has a preference.”

He looks a little shocked before he manages to collect himself, “Then maybe we should…I don’t know…watch some together? Like, to learn from it?”

The idea of watching porn with Spencer is…actually really hot? So much so that you start pulling out your phone instead of replying, fully intending to pull up your favorite porn site. 

He pushes your phone down and you’re confused at first, but then he says, “I’ll go get my laptop,” and you _understand_. 

He’s only gone for like 45 seconds, but the anticipation is _killing_ you. _Ohmygod, this is finally happening._ When he finally returns, you can tell his pants are just a little tighter than they were when he left - you admit, you’re getting excited too, it’s just not as _visible_ as it is for him - and _fuck_ that’s hot.

He looks over at you questioningly - you know he’s asking _do you wanna pick, or should I?_ \- but you’re curious about what he likes to watch, so you say, “your choice.”

He sucks in an unsteady breath and shifts in his seat, pulling open his computer. He obviously knows exactly what he’s going for because it takes him less than a minute to pull it up - you wonder, fleetingly, if he had it bookmarked or downloaded onto his computer. He pushes the plates aside and positions his computer on the coffee table, scooting close to you so that you can both have a good view of the screen. He’s picked something with a male/female couple in an obviously homemade video - they’re in what you presume is their bedroom, kissing heatedly, but still fully clothed. 

You’re really turned on by this - watching porn with him - but you’re still not sure what _exactly_ you’re supposed to be doing. Going by the way he keeps glancing between you and the screen, he doesn’t know either. 

“Um,” he says, “maybe we should just, like, do what we normally do?”

“Y - you mean like…masturbating?” you ask, just to make sure that’s what he’s suggesting. It sounds like a really good idea, actually, especially now that the couple is starting to undress.

“Mmhm,” he hums, unconsciously spreading his legs a little. The woman in the video is palming a hand over the man through his briefs, and suddenly you have a better idea. You sneak a hand onto his thigh, and when he doesn’t protest - looks at you with pupils blown wide, actually - you brush it over the bulge in his pants, enjoying the way he sucks in a breath and tries to keep himself still. 

You try your best to copy the woman, and it seems to be working because you can feel him stiffen under your palm. The fabric is just starting to get a little damp when he pulls you onto his lap in one swift motion, kissing you and sneaking his hands up your shirt, smoothing them over your back. You shift your hips when he dips his fingers under your waistband, and he gasps into your mouth, obviously pleased by this action. 

“Maybe we should…,” he trails off and motions with his head toward his bedroom, and _yes_ that sounds like a very good idea right now. 

Your response is to stand and try pulling him off of the couch. But since he tries standing at the same time, it ends with you stumbling backward into the coffee table and knocking his laptop off of it. It brings attention to the positively lewd noises emanating from it, and Spencer makes a face and closes it with his socked-foot, lightly kicking it aside. 

You start to stand back up at the same moment he takes a step towards you - long story short, you end up getting bumped in the cheek with his dick. He springs back and starts apologizing, but you just giggle - it’s _funny!_ and besides, you’re about to get acquainted with a lot more of him than his still-clothed penis. He starts giggling too, and then you two drag your giggling selves into his bedroom. 

Somehow, you end up lying on top of him - both still fully-dressed - and making out with his hands cupping your butt, pulling you up into him every so often. You have the sudden urge to see him without his shirt (and cardigan, and undershirt…), so you pull back - just enough to be able to speak - and ask, “Do you wanna…take our clothes off?”

He nods his fluffy head and says, “yeah,” in a voice so breathy it’s barely there. You roll off of him and start peeling off your shirt, and across from you he does the same. Then, there’s this moment where you pause. It’s not that you don’t want to undress in front of him - you really, _really_ do actually - it’s just _weird_ to think about being naked with someone when you haven’t done it before. Spencer seems to feel the same way, if the way he’s toying with his belt buckle is anything to go off of, so at least you’re not alone in this feeling. 

You think maybe getting all the way naked right away is too much, so you tentatively suggest, “Maybe we can leave our underwear on for now?”

The tension melts off of him, and you find you’re also relieved to be taking this in smaller steps. You kick off your pants and turn back to face him, unsure of how to continue. It’s him who makes the suggestion this time, “We can go back to what we were doing before, and then just see how it goes…?”

You nod and climb back onto him, and _wow_ you can feel a lot more of him without his pants, even through his underwear. He pulls you back down to kiss him, sliding his hands up and down your sides until they come to rest on the clasp of your bra. He doesn’t go any further and you know what he’s asking - _can I take this off?_ Being chest-to-chest with him sounds like a really good idea, so you prop yourself up a little - just enough to make eye-contact - and give him a clear nod. 

His eyes flash with something you think must be arousal, and he starts fiddling with the clasp. His brows furrow when it won’t come undone and you realize you should probably help him out a little, “um, push the sides together first?” he does, but it doesn’t seem to be working, “yeah and then like…yeah like that - just” it pops open - _thank god!_ \- and you giggle a little into his neck. He makes an embarrassed whine and starts tugging down the shoulder straps, trying to distract you from his perceived failure.

“Hey, don’t worry about it,” you placate when you see his miffed face, stifling laughter, “I sometimes have trouble getting it off, too, it’s no big deal.” 

But he doesn’t seem bothered anymore because he has something much more _interesting_ to pay attention to - his gaze is locked onto your barely-covered breasts. You thought you’d feel _exposed_ nearly naked like this, but he’s so obviously enamored with what he sees that you can’t help but smirk. You slide your bra off the rest of the way and drop it onto the floor, guiding one of his hands up to touch. 

He thumbs over your nipple a few times - sending shivers down your back - before kissing back up your neck and grinding his hips up into you in an almost unconscious gesture. It prompts you to slip a hand underneath his waistband and whisper, “Can we…?”

He nods as soon as he processes what you’re suggesting, pushing your hips up a little bit so he has room to tug off his underwear. It gives you a moment to do the same, and you blush when you realize just how wet yours are. 

He scoots back against the headboard, sitting himself up a bit so he can look at you properly. It gives you the chance to do the same to him - his hair is mussed and cheeks flushed, his cock is lying flush against his soft belly (you’re grateful it’s not overly large - it’s the first time you’ve seen a man’s erection in person, and you were beginning to fear all men had massive dicks like they do in porn. You’re very relieved to learn that’s not the case - you’re not about to tell _him_ that, though - despite never having done this _sex_ thing before, you know how men can be about the size of their penises).

You reach out to touch it and he gasps, leaning his head back against the headboard - it’s _lovely_ how something so small can spur such a big reaction from him. It has such an interesting feeling - you were expecting it to be hard, and it _is_ \- very much so, in fact - but it’s also weirdly soft? - and you keep stroking over it, just so you can examine it some more. It’s not until he starts squirming under you that you remember - _oh yeah, there’s a_ man _attached to this thing!_

He flips you over so that he’s on top and drops a hand down to your inner thigh. You know he’s waiting for affirmation, so you nod, eager to learn what it feels like to have someone else touch you. He dips a finger inside of you to slick it up, then teases it around your clit. It’s all going great until -

You wince, “Urg, don’t press so hard.”

“Sorry!” he frets, “I didn’t hurt you, did I? Oh god - “

“No! No, it’s just a little uncomfortable when you use that much pressure. You were doing great before that, I promise,” he was, and you know he’s a fast learner, so honestly you’re not worried (and besides, you’re sure you’ll do something he doesn’t like at some point, too. It’s not a big deal).

“Okay, okay,” he mutters to himself, taking a moment to breathe. This time, he decides to go further with his fingers inside of you. He pushes one in, taking care to watch your expression, then a second, wiggling them around until he finds a spot that makes you gasp and push into his hand - you don’t usually pay much attention to penetration when you’re alone, but you also can’t reach as far as he can _god_. 

It’s his turn to smirk, and he circles his thumb over your clit until you’re writing underneath him. You manage to gasp out, “condom?” 

It makes his hands still, and as much as you were enjoying it you’re really interested to know what his cock will feel like inside of you. He sucks in a shaky breath and nods, already leaning over to reach his bedside table. He pulls out an unopened box of condoms and a partially used bottle of lube. 

You raise an eyebrow, “anticipating this, were you?”

He just rolls his eyes, “ _Morgan_ gave me the condoms a few days after he overheard us on the plane. It was so embarrassing! At least no one else saw…”

“And the lube?” you continue, just to see him squirm. 

He blushes and stutters out, “oh, um, that’s - uh…yeah, that’s _mine_.”

You just reach for the box of condoms and tug it open, pulling one out. Luckily, Morgan was nice enough to just buy the plain ones - you’re not ready for anything more adventurous than that (just yet). You realize you’re not really sure what to do with it - obviously it has to go _on him_ , but how exactly to accomplish that is beyond you - so you hand it to him. He chuckles nervously and stares at it for a second before tearing open the packet, and slipping it on. Immediately, he blinks in surprise, “ _woah_ , that’s weird.”

Now you’re curious, “w…what does it feel like?”

He purses his lips and you can practically see the gears turning in his head, “kind of like…wearing a sock? Maybe?”

“Huh,” you say because you’re not really sure what to think of that, “but it’s okay, right?”

“Oh!” he exclaims, “yeah, it’s totally fine. I was just surprised, that’s all. Although, now that I think about it I dunno what I was expecting - obviously it’s not gonna feel like _nothing_ , but - ”

You cut him off by popping open the lube bottle and pouring some onto his cock, stroking over him to spread it around (and smiling to yourself when he lets out a little, “ah!”). He gets the idea and resettles himself between your legs, kissing you as he wiggles in closer. You feel him brush up against your entrance and both of you gasp.

“Ready?” he breathes into your lips, holding himself in position. 

“Yeah,” you reply, equally soft, bringing your hands to his butt and pulling forward a little.

He takes a moment to get ready before easing himself inside, watching your face all the while. Once he settles himself he keeps still for your sake - you can tell that he _really_ wants to move because his hips keep giving tiny little twitches, and his breath hitches as he holds them back. Having him inside of you is a little weird, but once you’ve had time to get used to it, it’s not unpleasant at all. You shift around a little and, finding no discomfort, tell him, “you can move now, I’m good.”

He double-checks just to be safe, “you sure?”

“Yep, I’m good,” you reply, and it’s entirely truthful. 

He pulls back a little before pushing forward again, his movements slowly gaining confidence as he builds a rhythm. It’s nice, but nothing especially exciting until -

“Ah!” you gasp when he brushes up against _that spot_.

It startles him and he looks worried that he’s hurt you. Before he can say anything, though, you reassure him, “No, no you didn’t hurt me. That was good. Keep going, keep going,” as your legs wrap around him without you telling them to. 

He does, bracing himself on his forearms on either side of your head, kissing you on the upstroke. You sneak a hand in between your sweaty bodies, circling your clit in time with his thrusts. It’s just starting to get _really good_ when he _stops_ all of the sudden.

You groan with frustration, “Spencer, why’d you stop!?”

He gasps out, “my legs are getting tired!” and you notice just how much he’s panting - you didn’t realize sex was this much work!

A smile purses at your lips, “you okay to keep going?”

“Yeah, yeah I just needed a second,” he laughs a little, “I’m okay now.”

And he is - he picks up right where he left off, hitting _that spot_ almost every time. You resume stroking your clit (though to be honest, you never stopped), rolling your hips to help him out a little. Soon enough he’s panting into your open mouth, his hips starting to stutter as he reaches his climax. He gasps, “ah ah ah!” before finishing and rocking himself through the aftershocks, then replacing your hand with his own once he realizes you haven’t finished yet. You’re close, and the unpredictability of someone else’s hand touching you brings you to the edge quickly, the blissful feeling spreading through your body as you reach your own high. 

You lie there long enough to feel him start to soften inside of you before starting to squirm under his weight. He heaves himself upright, taking care to mind the condom before peeling it off and taking it to the bathroom to throw away. He returns with a glass of water, which he sets on the nightstand, and a damp washcloth, which he hands to you. 

You wipe yourself off a little before handing it back so that he can do the same. He tosses it in the hamper before crawling back into bed and tugging the duvet over both of you. Then, he jolts up and asks, “Did you want to take a shower? I wasn’t trying to imply you couldn’t, I just - “

“Spencer, it’s fine,” you cut off his nervous rant, pulling him back down into bed, “we can shower in the morning.”

“We?” he smirks.

“Down boy,” you say jokingly, a sleepy smile pulling at your lips.

…

_“Reid, man. Why’re you walking like that?”_

_“Uh…I did some…exercise…the other day.”_

_“…uh-huh. I bet you did.”_

_“…shutup.”_


End file.
